Dear holidaying teacher….

Week 2, Day 1….

My diary entry….

Dear teacher,

I had a wise plan today. As he who helped create them is studying from home I decided to recreate last weeks swimming nightmare by giving it another crack.  However I totally pulled one over on the lifeguard by leaving BB at home in bed and only taking the twins…

We arrived ten minutes before the swimming session began.  Good planning on my part as I wanted to ensure we got maximum return on my ten pound investment. I am northern and I don’t like to pay over the odds.

However according to the future dictator behind the till one can’t get changed before the swimming session starts so one has to wait in the hot, sweaty reception with a thousand other children.  I could barely hear myself think over the constant hum of all the children tugging at their parents and murmuring “how many more minutes mummy, how many.”

I must admit I may have snapped a little at 2.11pm when the pool doors remained closed and I was asked again and again how many minutes were remaining.  I flung myself on the mercy of Mrs Hitler, stood open palmed in front of her and gazed imploringly at her and cried;

“For the love of god woman, how many more minutes?”

She merely scowled up at me as she paused from her frantic texting and said.

“In a minute…”

Eventually after being climbed on and swung upon as if I were a tree by two bored, restless children we made it to the changing room.

Fear bubbled in my throat as I remembered the life guard from the week before but then calm dripped over me as I counted only two heads in my .  This northern mum was not being refused entry to the local pool today.

The changing room was, well, smelly.  Twin girl, who is a tad swimming obsessed, could barely get changed as her excitement threatened to overwhelm her.

“Mummy, swimming is better than Disneyland.” She declared, “I didn’t really like Disney because of the fireworks but I love this.”

Note to all parents; don’t be a fool like me and spend a grand on a holiday to fulfil your kids dreams, just spend a tenner and take them down to the splash session at the council pool.

We entered the pool, thumping tunes bleated out from the stereo system and the cries of children young and out echoed round the room.  The only word that really describes it well is…

Hell.

Then they spotted it…

The Diving pool…

Not before been open for public use when we have been at the pool but today it was unroped and free to anyone who is considered to be a competent swimmer.  People were flinging themselves off boards at varying different heights, some jumped, some dived and others simply bombed. 

The kids were spellbound, and their eyes beseeched me.

So…

We stood in line, I held my breath as my son climbed onto a diving board which was balanced above a pool that was at least 200 feet deep.

He strode out on the board, bent his knees like Tigger and did a tremendous bounce and soared off the board into the sky then hurtled towards the water.

He splashed his entrance into the worlds deepest pool and the music stopped playing and the children felt silent.  The world turned slower as my breath caught in my throat.  I watched him sink down as I desperately called him back. 

Then suddenly the music started to sing again and children yelled and twin boy burst through the surface with a triumphant grin.

An eight year old lad sporting a diamond earing turned to me and said;

“F*ck me he’s good, he’s only five.”

Not the best words for a child his age but he summoned up my feelings quite exactly.

“He is,” I agreed “now get ready for his twin sister.”

My emotions were twisted again as I watched my daughter repeat the jump of death praying her little legs were strong enough to kick back to the surface.

She was fine, I was terrified but she amazed both myself and the eight year old beside me whose language remained choice once more.

I lived to survive another day of the summer holidays, hope your six weeks without my children is going well, I imagine it must feel slightly empty…

Northernmum.

P.S – you may notice the children’s entries are missing today, to be honest they are tiring of the diary and I am tiring of enforcing it.  I am religiously competing mine though so will that count for the prize in september?  I just want a bloody medal….